


nails (on fingers, in coffins)

by MistressEast



Series: you fit into me like [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Desperation, Discussion of Abortion, Discussion of Non-Consensual Abortion, Happy Ending, Knotting, M/M, Making Out, Mating Bites, Pillow Talk, alpha!Akira, alternate 2/2 conversation, discussions about personal agency and the nature of freedom, it's 2/2 you know what I mean, omega!Goro, possible character death mentioned, referenced futasumi and ryukita and annshiho, sorry if I got some details wrong I couldn't see through my tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressEast/pseuds/MistressEast
Summary: “You don’t get it,” Goro growls, teeth bared. “You don’t get anything!”“Don’t—don’t get what—”“What he’s done!” The shout slashes up Goro’s throat, so loud Akira blinks, but Goro just squeezes his shoulders until his fingers ache and yells right in Akira’s stunned face: “Maruki thinks he knows what’s best for us—built this whole world and dragged me back from the dead and promises to make us happy but do you even know what he did to me?! What he’s already taken from me?!”
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Series: you fit into me like [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951444
Comments: 32
Kudos: 500





	nails (on fingers, in coffins)

**Author's Note:**

> as promised, here is the continuation of my abo fic! i was genuinely blown away by the response to the first part and i'm very excited to share the rest of the story with you, though i can't help being a little nervous. many of my very sweet comments seemed to be in favor of a different outcome for our boys, but i hope this is enjoyable and satisfying regardless. heed the tags bc this gets into some pretty heavy subject matter.
> 
> (i know some of the tagged topics are pretty tricky for folks. if you need more help deciding if this fic is for you, i would be happy to provide a more detailed explanation of the content over on one of my socials, linked in the end note)
> 
> please enjoy!

The mundane jingle of the café door swinging shut scrapes over Goro’s ears but he doesn’t look up, eyes glued to the steaming cup of coffee Maruki left abandoned on the table. He can feel Akira’s stare stabbing into the side of his head.

“What are you gonna do?” Morgana asks, voice distant and muffled as though coming through water.

Akira is silent for a beat and the force of his gaze galvanizes Goro to drag his head up. “I’d like to speak with Akira,” he says, keeping his words clipped.

Morgana glances nervously between him and Akira. “Akechi….” Then he nods in apparent understanding. “Gotcha. I’ll leave the decision up to you, Akira—let me know when you’ve reached an answer.” He rises and jumps off the bench, but when he turns in the direction of the stairs, Akira stands suddenly.

“Wait.” Akira’s tone is measured, his face angled so that Goro can’t see his eyes for the glare of his glasses. “Go to Sojiro’s for tonight. I’ll let you out.”

Morgana seems reticent but doesn’t object, trailing gamely behind Akira to the entryway. Akira lets the cat onto the sidewalk and Goro watches him close and lock the door before robotically making his way back into the café, pausing a few feet from Goro with his hand in his pockets, silent, eyes downcast. At this distance, Goro can smell the sour, anxious taint of his scent, even through Maruki’s lingering yeasty pheromones.

It’s the most meek Goro’s ever seen him and Goro can’t stand it.

“I can’t tell if that was you being optimistic or pessimistic about how this conversation is going to go.” Goro crosses his arms. “Don’t want him to hear us fighting?”

“I’m not going to fight you, Akechi.”

A high, mean laugh bubbles out of Goro’s mouth. “So you don’t want him to hear us _fucking_.”

Akira looks up. The yellowish glow of the pendant lamps bounces off of his lenses, hiding one of his eyes. The other regards Goro vacantly, slate dull and tired. “This is between us.”

A flicker of anger licks low in Goro’s gut. “So you know.”

Shoulders slumped, Akira doesn’t respond.

Goro grits his teeth. “Answer me.”

Akira’s mouth twists miserably. “I thought...I imagined it.”

The urge to punch something surges violently through Goro’s muscles. “Of course,” he spits, fists clenching. “Of course you know. You know _everything._ You always know _everything_ about me. Did you figure it out right away? As soon as you burrowed all the way inside me? Or was it in Shido’s palace?”

Akira doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even seem to be breathing.

“Well?” Goro urges. “Is that why you were so desperate to save me?”

“No.”

“But you knew?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Fury lashing through him, Goro slams his fist on the bartop, so hard the force reverberates into his bones and travels all the way up to the ache in his head. “Did you know!” he demands.

Akira’s lips twitch. “I couldn’t be sure. You were...so much was happening, but—” his shoulders tense further, “—I thought...I thought—”

“Thought you could smell yourself on me?” Goro sneers.

The shadows on Akira’s face shift as his jaw tightens. “So you really were—”

“Pregnant?” Goro hurls the word like a dart and revels in the way Akira flinches at the sting. “Yes. Congratulations, Akira Kurusu, you defied nature itself to win a game you didn’t even know you were playing.”

“Not a game—” Akira pulls his hands out of his pockets and brings them to his head, holding both sides like his skull is about to split apart. “There was no game, Akechi—no one _won_ anything—”

“Can you even imagine what I went through?” Goro hisses. “I thought I had _killed_ you, and you were still—inside me—”

“Akechi—”

“—like some sort of _joke_ —like the universe was laughing at me for ever thinking I could be rid of you—”

“Akechi—”

“Because you’re everything!” Goro’s voice pitches up, cracking at the edge and he grabs the lip of the bar, squeezing until his fingers hurt. “You’re everywhere! You’re like this _stain_ I can’t get out and you just spread and spread and—” his head throbs and he claps his other hand to his forehead, a hysterical giggle tripping over his words. “There’s nothing left—there’s nothing—”

A dull tap sounds on the tile and Akira lurches forward, hand outstretched, but Goro recoils, stumbling backward as panic rises in his throat. “Don’t touch me!”

Akira freezes, arm hovering in midair, face stricken.

“I don’t want your _pity_ ,” Goro snaps, fingers clutching at the front of his jacket. “Not now—not back in the palace—”

“It’s not pity,” Akira cuts in, glasses glinting.

“Please.” Goro’s lip curls in disgust. “Only a monster wouldn’t pity me. And you’re the most pointlessly _noble_ person I know.”

“Pity is not the same thing as caring about someone, Akechi.” Akira meets his eyes, chest expanding quickly as his breaths come fast and shallow. “If you can’t understand that, then we can’t keep talking. You’ll never be able to listen to me.”

Goro blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Don’t talk down to me—”

An animalistic growl tears through Akira’s bared teeth and Goro’s spine goes rigid, heart leaping into his throat.

Eyes widening, Akira presses his fingers to his mouth. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I don’t—didn’t mean to do that.”

Goro swallows, scanning Akira watchfully. “I thought...I never heard you make those noises outside of…. I thought it was a side-effect of whatever that shadow did to you.”

Akira’s brows pinch together. “I’ve always been able to, but I—I try not to. It scares people.” Against his face, his fingers twitch, bitten-down nails carving into the skin of his cheek. “That time with you...that was the first time I’d done it in years.”

The explicit reminder of those three days they spent together in November hums in the silence between them, heavy and damp. Goro wishes he could strike it from the conversation, knees weak at the rush of memory.

“But I—” he sucks in a hesitant breath, tasting earthy vanilla on the back of his tongue, “—I make you forget yourself.”

Another beat shivers wordlessly between them.

Uncurling his fingers from over his mouth, Akira drops his arm. “You do.” His voice is low, more felt than heard. “Or...you make me...forget to not be myself.”

Goro’s eyes flick down of their own accord, almost unable to hold Akira’s stare, but he forces them back up. “What does that even mean?” he whispers harshly.

“You’re...the only one I—” Akira’s hands flutter uselessly at his sides, “—that I—never had to change for.”

For a second, Goro can only stare, caught in the magnetic steel of Akira’s gaze. Then his shoulders slump, heavy with defeat. "How do you always—" Goro breaks off on a sigh, the hot tide of frustration momentarily smothered. "I'm trying to be angry at you.” A pleading note enters the words, childish and plaintive. “Won't you even let me have that? This...misplaced rage that I’ve been living with ever since—” Goro fists his hands at his sides, surveying Akira’s wretched body language. “I want to scream at you and shake you and—and dig my hands into your chest so you feel _some_ tiny bit of what _I_ felt when you replaced me—when you possessed me like a ghost that wasn’t even dead."

A muscle in Akira’s jaw jumps. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Goro snaps.

“But what else can I say?” Akira demands, expression crumpling. “I’m _sorry_ —I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I’m—” he sucks in a shuddering breath. “What words am I supposed to—there’s nothing in the world that I—”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know, I—!” Akira throws his hands up convulsively. “I’m sorry I—did that!”

Goro scowls. “We were both at fault.”

“But I—” Akira’s hands land on his head again, tangling in his hair and tugging, “—I just feel—everything was so fucked up—I should have been _better_ —”

“Better?”

“If I’d been better, if I’d been smarter—you wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t have gotten knocked up?” Goro finishes for him. “Or wouldn’t have died?”

Akira flinches.

“Which one?”

“Both,” Akira rasps. “All—all of it—I just—” he squeezes his eyes shut, bowing his head, “—I just left you...alone….”

Incredulity twists unpleasantly in Goro’s stomach. “Akira, I killed you.”

“Yeah,” Akira mumbles.

Goro waits.

Akira’s shoulders rise and fall unevenly in time with his ragged breathing, but he doesn’t continue.

“You didn’t _leave_ me, I betrayed you,” Goro prods. “You know that, right?”

When Akira still doesn’t respond, Goro resists the juvenile urge to stamp his foot.

“Where is the line with you?” he spits. “All of this hand-wringing and grief, for what? For someone who killed you? And tried to kill you again? Are your alpha instincts really _that_ strong?”

A full-body shudder courses through Akira’s hunched figure, but Goro barrels ahead:

“We spend one heat together and suddenly you feel responsible for me? Like you own me? I thought you were better than all of that biological shit.”

“Not—” Akira mutters, “—not responsible, Akechi—”

“Well, whatever it is, get over it,” Goro hisses. “That sort of brainless sentimentality is exactly why we’re in this situation.”

“I can’t get over it,” Akira bites out, jolting upright and fixing Goro with a heated glare. “I can’t just make it disappear, Akechi, it doesn’t work like that—”

“You don’t have a choice.” Goro grits his teeth, speaking through them: “Is this really as far as your resolve can take you? Someone dangles your poor omega prize in front of your confused alpha instincts and you fold instantly? I really never took you for such a—”

“I lost you!” Akira bursts out, drowning Goro’s words and shocking Goro backwards a step. Akira’s hands fall from his hair, one groping for the back of a chair as though he might tip over without support, and his face twists with anguish. “All I wanted was—was to save you—” he continues, voice scraping jaggedly out of his throat, “—and I wasted every chance. I thought I knew better, I thought if I could stop Shido, you would see—but I was stupid and blind and we were both being manipulated and I never even—” he snarls again, and the chair rattles against the tile as his arm flexes abortively. “I never even had a chance—but if I was smarter, or faster, or—or _better_ , if I did it _right_ maybe I could—I could have saved you—” he blinks hard, and Goro spies tears glittering over the dark lines of his bottom lashes. “I had you,” he rasps, free hand drifting up, like he wants to reach for Goro. “For three days, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t—”

Goro stares at him.

“I ruined everything,” Akira gasps, a shiver wracking his frame. “And I’m still—ruining...everything—” Like someone cut his strings, Akira collapses to his knees, hitting the tile with a muffled _thud_ that rocks through Goro’s skull. “You’re here—” he moans, folding into himself, head in his hands, “—when I saw you—I thought maybe—maybe I could fix it—maybe it wasn’t...over—but now I’m losing you again, and I—”

“It’s not real, Akira,” Goro cuts in, panic chasing his tongue, eyes leashed to Akira’s bowed posture. “It’s all—manufactured! You heard that maniac—he created this—he’s trying to control us, to get us to hand over—”

“But you’re here.” Akira lifts his head enough to catch Goro’s gaze, brows pinched, eyes shining. “Right? You’re here? You’re alive?”

Goro clenches his fists at his sides until the leather creaks, ice creeping through his veins. “I...I don’t—”

“He saved you—when I couldn’t—”

“He’s _using_ me to get to you, Akira—” Desperation swells in Goro’s chest and he throws himself to the floor in front of Akira, seizing the other boy by the shoulders. “You can’t seriously be thinking about this—” he searches Akira’s desolate face, gloved fingers curling into the fabric of Akira’s coat. “Tell me you’re not!”

“Akechi—” the word cleaves out of Akira’s mouth, shaking, “—please, you’re—”

“Akira!”

“This is your life—”

“It isn’t!” Goro jerks Akira forward to snarl right in his face: “This isn’t living! Handing my freedom over to that lunatic—I’d rather be dead!”

“No—” Eyes wide, Akira grabs at Goro’s wrists. “Just—please—maybe it will be okay—”

“You don’t get it,” Goro growls, teeth bared. “You don’t get anything!”

“Don’t—don’t get what—”

“What he’s done!” The shout slashes up Goro’s throat, so loud Akira blinks, but Goro just squeezes his shoulders until his fingers ache and yells right in Akira’s stunned face: “Maruki thinks he knows what’s best for us—built this whole world and dragged me back from the dead and promises to make us happy but do you even know what he did to me?! What he’s already taken from me?!”

Akira’s mouth drops open soundlessly, pulled forward by Goro’s furious clutching, and in the space of time it takes Goro to suck in a shallow breath, he’s assailed by Akira’s anxious, sickly sweet scent.

“It’s gone, Akira,” he seethes.

“Gone?” Akira whispers.

“When I was released from custody, I realized something was wrong, and I started wondering—” Goro sets his jaw. “You can tell, can’t you? You can smell it on me.”

Akira shakes his head. “I can’t—I can’t smell anything, I can’t—” he trails off, eyes going wide.

Goro sneers. “That’s why you weren’t sure, idiot. Back in Shido’s palace, I was definitely—” he swallows. “There was no mistake. But ever since the new year...there’s nothing. It disappeared.”

“All this time—” Akira searches his face. “I thought...either I was just...losing my mind back then, or—or you got—”

“Of course that was the _plan_ ,” Goro snaps. “The mere thought that I would keep it—” A sliver of dread echoes through him and he scowls. “But I didn’t exactly have the opportunity before everything went wrong, and then...well, then I didn’t really think it would matter anymore.”

A shadow crosses behind Akira’s eyes.

“So imagine my surprise,” Goro presses on, “when, in addition to not being dead, I realize I’m all alone in here. Like nothing ever happened.”

Akira’s hands tighten on his wrists. “And it wasn’t...you don’t think something just...went wrong?”

Maruki’s words slither through his head: _That's why I created a reality where you two could have a fresh start together._ “Akira.” Goro levels him with the most composed stare he can manage. “He took it.”

Haltingly, Akira’s hands slide along Goro’s arms, up to his shoulders, clutching him back like one of them will be dragged away if he doesn’t hold on. “Why—why would he—”

“Because that’s what this is!” Goro hisses directly in Akira’s stricken face. “Don’t you get it? He thinks he knows what’s best for us—he doesn’t care what we want! Here, in this world—our choices mean nothing!” Swallowing the lump in his throat, Goro gnashes his teeth. “I wanted to be rid of that thing with every fiber of my being, but that was _my_ choice to make! No one else’s! You see that right?” he nearly begs, shaking Akira as though he could jostle the doubts out of his stupid head. “You see what choosing this reality would mean? What it would take from us?”

“I—I—”

"I refuse to live as a puppet any longer. I refuse to sit back and watch Shido get away with everything he did. And I refuse to let someone else make _my_ choices for me. I'm done with that!”

When Akira merely dips his head, hiding his eyes behind his wild fringe, Goro growls in frustration.

“I know you know this is wrong! Where is all of this reticence coming from? You’re smarter than this, Akira!"

“I’m—I’m not—” Akira scratches out.

“Surely all of this grief isn’t for a baby you weren’t even sure existed,” Goro sneers. “Are you really so vain that—”

“It’s you, you asshole!” Akira bursts out, lifting his head to fix Goro with a furious glare. His grip on Goro’s shoulders tightens, drawing him closer. “I don’t care about the baby—I don’t care about Shido—haven’t you been hearing me? Don’t you understand what rejecting this reality means?”

Goro meets Akira’s devastated eyes and his heart thuds in his ears.

“This is your life we’re talking about,” Akira gasps. “In—in our reality, you’re—” he chokes on the words, hands twitching. “And you’re talking like—like it doesn’t matter—”

“It _doesn’t_ matter,” Goro spits. “I don’t want to be alive if this is—”

“How can you—” Akira’s touch inches over Goro’s shoulders, up his neck, warm even through the thick fabric of his scarf, until his fingers are hovering over the line of Goro’s jaw. “How can you not care at _all_?”

“We can’t even be sure that I _am_ dead in reality,” Goro says in a rush, immobilized by Akira’s heat and frantic gaze. “My memory is unreliable, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Futaba said—in the engine room—”

“I’m not so weak that I—”

“But taking that chance—” Akira’s hands land on Goro’s jaw, cradling his face, and the shock of skin on skin zips down Goro’s spine like electricity, leaving his fingertips buzzing. “If we’re wrong, you’ll be _dead_ —”

“If we’re wrong, then I already _am_ dead!” Goro spits. “And playing into some madman’s delusional utopia wouldn't change that! You were willing to let Okumura and Wakaba Isshiki go back to being dead—why is this so different?”

Akira grits his teeth. “You _know_ why—”

“Say it!”

Eyes flashing, Akira’s hands flex around Goro’s jaw. “Your life—” he growls, giving Goro a single, sharp shake, rattling his thoughts, “—is more important than _anything_ else.”

Steeling himself, Goro releases Akira’s shoulders to reach forward and tangle his hands in Akira’s hair, squeezing hard. “More important than my freedom?”

A suspended beat shivers between them. Akira stares unblinkingly into Goro’s eyes and Goro can feel him searching, mind racing, breath stalled, and his own pulse hitches in response, heart stuttering in his ears. Until Akira lets out a strained whine and lurches forward, closing the small distance between them and crashing their mouths together.

The force of the kiss unbalances them both and Goro buckles backward, falling heavily onto the tile as Akira surges over him, using his grip on Goro’s face to tilt his head. Goro groans and opens for it, clutching Akira closer and spreading his legs to make room for Akira to press him into the floor. Teeth clicking loudly, Akira slides his tongue past Goro’s lips, the hot, wet glide dripping straight into Goro’s gut and dragging an eager noise out of his throat.

It’s shameful, honestly. Even without the biological persuasion of his heat, even with everything that’s happened between them, even with frustration prickling under his skin, Goro still _aches_ for this, for Akira’s solid weight between his legs and Akira’s scent filling his head and Akira’s hands pushing and pulling and clawing at him like they’ll never be close enough.

Goro bites Akira’s bottom lip hard and Akira moans obscenely, grabbing Goro by the hips and jerking his lower body off the floor, spreading him around Akira’s lap. Then there’s a hand under his jaw, keeping his mouth wide open for Akira’s probing tongue, and Goro’s heart is racing, heat pooling under his stomach. He drops one hand from Akira’s hair and curls his fingers into the back of Akira’s coat, dragging him closer, sealing their bodies together along a scorching plane of too much fabric, not enough skin—

“Upstairs—” Goro pants into Akira’s gaping mouth before Akira steals his voice with a hard roll of his hips. A spike of pleasure drives through him and Goro pounds his fist on Akira’s back. “Not here—you animal—”

“Need you—” Akira whines, guiding Goro’s head to the side to nip at his burning ear. “—now—”

“I know, but I—” Goro forces his hands between them and shoves Akira back by the shoulders. “Not on the floor—in a café—alright?” He glares into Akira’s glassy eyes. “Fuck me upstairs, attic trash.”

Akira’s pheromones bloom between them, sinking into Goro’s muscles like morphine, and it’s all he can do to keep up as Akira scrambles to his feet and pulls Goro along with him.

Tripping over themselves, they stumble toward the stairs, Goro eventually taking the lead in the narrow stairwell with Akira’s hands twisted in the sides of his coat like he might try to get away, like he might change his mind, as if fucking Akira isn’t written in Goro’s DNA at this point.

As soon as they reach the dim, dusty loft, Akira spins him around and catches his mouth again, yanking at Goro’s scarf until it loosens from his neck and slips out of Goro’s attention. Goro kisses back savagely, fumbling with the buttons of Akira’s coat until he can push the heavy fabric down Akira’s shoulders. Seizing Akira by the collar, he staggers them backwards, feeling Akira scrabbling along the front of his own coat until the thing falls open and Akira tears it down Goro’s arms, instantly grabbing for Goro’s shirt.

Goro’s legs hit the edge of Akira’s rickety bed and he lets himself topple, dragging Akira with him. They hit the threadbare mattress with a creaking thud and Akira breaks the kiss with a gasp to focus on wrestling Goro’s shirt off. The ferocity in his eyes is familiar, but this time there’s no unnatural rut haze; it’s all vicious, intelligent hunger narrowed predatorily down at Goro, and as his shirt slips over his head and Akira’s searing hands splay on his bare chest, a bolt of heat shoots through him, adding to the tidal pull of desire consuming his thoughts.

Akira swears raggedly, ducking to press his lips to Goro’s collarbone, skimming his fingers down Goro’s ribs, and an impatient noise escapes Goro’s throat as he tugs pointedly at Akira’s shirt.

“Off—off—” he demands.

Huffing, Akira reluctantly separates enough to whip his shirt over his head, throwing it carelessly to the side before reaching for his waistband. Goro fills his hands with Akira’s dense biceps, relishing the contrast of his dark gloves alongside the obvious blush creeping across Akira’s shoulders and down his heaving chest.

“I’m not even in heat and you’re still all worked up,” he marvels, digging his fingers into the pink flesh. “Pathetic.”

Akira succeeds in ripping his fly open and starts on Goro’s, flashing a dark look up at him. “You do this to me—all the time—”

“Don’t get sentimental on me—” Goro’s words die in Akira’s mouth and he surrenders to the dominating kiss, toeing his shoes and socks off by feel as Akira pushes at his pants and underwear. As soon as the clothes are off, Goro wraps his legs around Akira’s waist, coaxing him fully onto the bed, and Akira releases his lips in favor of nipping along his jaw.

“Just this once,” he pleads against Goro’s pulse point, “let me be sentimental.”

Goro tears his gloves off and tosses them over Akira’s back. “Aren’t you tired of all those _feelings_ yet?” he asks harshly, carding his fingers into Akira’s hair again. It’s as soft as he remembers. “Is that really what you want to waste the night on?”

Sucking in a shaking breath, Akira lifts up, bracing himself on his elbow and pinning Goro with glittering steel eyes. “Being with you is never a waste,” he whispers, fogging the space between them with vanilla and cedar.

Goosebumps race down Goro’s spine.

“If this is my last chance—” Akira continues, dipping to brush their noses together, “—I want to make sure you know how I feel.”

“You’ve made it quite clear how you feel,” Goro responds breathlessly, heart fluttering in its cage.

“You’re not very good at listening to me.” Fingertips trace over Goro’s scalp and he shivers. “I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time—I tried to tell you in November—” Akira’s voice lowers into a throaty growl, “—but you always think you know better.”

Goro’s mouth opens but no sound comes out, silenced by the fire in Akira’s tone.

“But now there’s no heat—and no rut—and you can’t get away—” Akira sways forward to press their foreheads together, so close that all Goro can see is the shadowy gray of his eyes, “—so even if your brain won’t listen to me, I’m going to make sure your body never forgets.”

A sharp inhale floods Goro’s senses with Akira’s heady scent, and a bolt of need pulses through him. Head spinning, Goro slips his hands down and takes the arms of Akira’s glasses between his tingling fingertips. Akira inches back just enough to let Goro slip the useless spectacles off his face. Without them, he looks younger, more unguarded. Vulnerable. Goro flings them carelessly off the bed and hears them hit the floor somewhere with a plasticky clatter as he frames Akira’s face with his hands. “How exactly are you going to do that, _alpha_?” he purrs.

“No.” Akira clamps his hands into Goro’s hair. “My name.”

Goro shudders. “What?”

“Say _my name_.”

Fingers twitching on Akira’s face, Goro drags in a reedy breath. “Akira.”

A hard roll of Akira’s hips brushes against Goro’s aching erection and stars dance across Goro’s vision. “Again.”

“ _Ah_ —Akira—”

“Good.” One of Akira’s hands migrates down to cup under Goro’s jaw, keeping his head still even as the rest of his body tries to grind up against the delicious pressure. “Not _alpha_ , not _attic trash_. Akira. Remember that, Goro.”

Goro’s breath stutters in his lungs and Akira leans back enough for the light filtering through the window to catch his slanted smile.

“See?” he coos with a sinuous motion into the vee of Goro’s legs. He’s still wearing his undone jeans and the rough fabric scratches against the sensitive skin of Goro’s inner thighs. “Isn’t it nicer when we say each other’s names?”

Another purposeful rock has Goro’s eyelids fluttering. “Aren’t—aren’t you—too cocky?”

“Those three days we spent together in November—” Akira ducks back down to hum the words against Goro’s mouth, teasing a kiss, “—they bleed together—my memory is all over the place—and I hate it.” The hand in Goro’s hair loosens, carding gently over his scalp. “But this time, we’re both sober, and if you—if this is my last chance—” Darting his tongue out, Akira licks delicately over the swell of Goro’s bottom lip, “—I’m gonna make the most of it.”

There’s an undercurrent to Akira’s words, beneath the heat and desire, a desperate edge that cuts painfully into Goro’s chest and slices his nails deeper into Akira’s skin. “Don’t give up on me yet,” he huffs, tipping his head back to catch Akira’s strained gaze. “Do you really think I’d back out of our promise so pathetically?”

Akira doesn’t rise to the taunt, but his expression softens. “Indulge me.”

Goro relaxes his grip into a gentle sweep down Akira’s arms. “I suppose—this once. But you better make it worth my time.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“And if you don’t—” Goro tilts his head to brush his lips against the corner of Akira’s mouth, “—you’ll regret it the next time we meet.”

A serrated groan saws out of Akira’s throat before Goro finds himself pinned by a biting kiss, one rough hand hooking under his knee to push him open wider around Akira’s hips. The cold air of the attic breezes over the slick finally starting to leak from his entrance and Goro shivers, hissing into Akira’s mouth. Piqued, Akira breaks the kiss with a wet _pop_ and glances down. Goro sees his eyebrows raise.

“You’re wet.”

“Yes, thank you, I hadn’t noticed.” Goro bucks his hips emphatically. “Take your pants off before they get stained, idiot.”

“Sorry,” Akira says, almost sheepishly, sitting up to push at his waistband. “I...I thought that was—a heat thing—”

Goro rolls his eyes. “My anatomy doesn’t change when I’m in heat.” He watches with mild glee as Akira struggles to work his pants and underwear off without removing himself from between Goro’s legs. “The heat revs the engine a little faster, but other than that—” Akira’s rigid cock springs free and Goro wastes no time propping himself up on one elbow and wrapping his hand around the scorching length, “—arousal is arousal.”

A full-body jolt rocks through Akira and as soon as he’s completely bare, he slumps over Goro and grinds into the grip around his cock, mouthing under Goro’s jaw.

“Where did all of your bravado go?” Goro jeers, sliding their erections together. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re falling apart.”

“Like always.” Akira skates a hand down and grazes his fingertips against Goro’s hole, circling through the natural lubrication gathering there. “You make me lose focus.”

“Blaming me—” Goro breaks off on a low whine as a finger slips into him, careful and agonizing. It’s not as smooth and effortless as when he was in heat, but he’s already dripping and desperate, walls fluttering around the experimental touch. “Oh _fuck_ —”

Akira exhales hotly against his neck. “Tight—”

“Haven’t exactly felt like playing around, if you can believe it—” Goro loops his free arm around Akira’s neck, stroking his hand firmly along their cocks. Akira is bigger, his swollen head jutting out past Goro’s, and Goro swipes his thumb deliberately over the leaking slit, smearing the precum back down their lengths.

Hissing, Akira retaliates with another finger worming into Goro’s ass, stretching his rim with the tiniest hint of a burn. “Implying you played around before?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Akira crooks his fingers, pressing with purpose, and Goro jerks, legs snapping together around Akira’s waist. “I think I would.”

“What—insecure?” Goro swallows, heat flashing up his spine. “Worried I’ve been with other people?”

Working a third finger alongside the others, Akira removes himself from Goro’s neck to look down at him, eyes blown-out and glittering into the light from the street. “No, I know you haven’t.”

Goro blinks. “How could you—”

“But thinking about you—stretched around a toy—” Akira spreads his fingers, pushing against Goro’s walls with a delicious pressure that sends a shiver up his spine, “—dripping and pink—” He licks at Goro’s slack mouth, trailing saliva possessively across his lips. “When was the last time you played with yourself?”

“Wh—what?”

“You last heat before November?” Akira brushes against Goro’s sweet spot and Goro sees stars. “When?”

“Nosy—” Goro gasps, struggling to cast his mind back. “It was—after we fought in Mementos—”

Akira pauses. “What?”

Tightening deliberately around Akira’s fingers, Goro curls the corner of his mouth up. “That’s right—I went home that night and fucked myself thinking about you.” It’s hard to sound smooth with your voice strangled in your throat, but the words get the job done as Akira swallows hard, clearly picturing it. “I imagined you—” Goro croons, rolling his hips, “—shoving me down on the ground and knotting me until I cried. It was just a fantasy, of course—never thought it’d ever come true so quickly—” At Akira’s distant look, Goro’s smile spreads. “Don’t tell me you did the same.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Akira growls, thrusting his fingers as deep as they’ll go, making Goro bite his lip. “I had your glove—I—it smelled like you—”

“ _Ah—”_

“Wanted to touch you so bad—” Akira accompanies his next probing thrust with a roll of his hips, sliding their erections together in Goro’s flagging grip. “—never been so desperate in my life—”

A bitter laugh falls from Goro’s lips. “But you couldn’t proposition someone who was planning to kill you, hm?”

Akira doesn’t answer beyond a canine huff and finally slips his fingers out of Goro’s ass, lifting up to fumble for something off the side of the bed. Disgruntled at the cold air hitting his flushed chest, Goro relinquishes their cocks in favor of tracing up Akira’s ribs, around to his bunched shoulder muscles.

“What are you doing?”

With a grunt, Akira looms back over Goro, brandishing a clear bottle and sitting up on his knees.

Goro watches him squirt the lube into his hand. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Akira tosses the bottle aside and strokes his slick hand carefully up his dusky length. “You’re not dripping as much as when you were in heat,” he says intently, spanning his free fingers across Goro’s sternum. “But I’m just as big. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s not wrong, and a thrill of anticipation runs through Goro as Akira settles into position, guiding the blunt head of his cock against Goro’s relaxed entrance. Pushing up on his elbows, Goro takes in the sight hungrily, digging his heels into Akira’s back.

“Ready?” Akira asks breathlessly.

“Do you have to ask?”

“We’re doing this my way, remember?”

Goro meets Akira’s gaze through the gloom. “Please fuck me, Akira.”

A familiar, achingly sweet note rumbles out of Akira’s chest, gathering instantly in Goro’s head like warm cotton, and Akira’s eyelids droop with pleasure. He leans over Goro, bracing himself on one arm, and catches Goro’s mouth as he rolls his hips forward, slipping easily inside.

Goro moans into the kiss, the slow, wet slide of Akira’s cock injecting heat directly up his spine and soothing the lonely emptiness that’s been reverberating inside him since November. Akira’s purring pitches lower as he sheathes himself completely, pelvis flush to Goro’s ass. He really is just as big as Goro remembers, filling him up perfectly, so he can dismiss the idea that the rut had augmenting properties, and Goro has to break the kiss to suck in a steadying breath as his body adjusts.

Akira holds still, tucking his nose under Goro’s jaw and rumbling contentedly, and a rapturous sweetness twines between them, coating Goro’s lungs with each deep inhale.

After a beat, Goro nudges his heels into Akira’s back. “Move.”

Sweeping his thumb over Goro’s hipbone, Akira stirs. “You sure?”

Goro grinds down, deliberately shifting the scorching length inside him, and Akira cuts off a whimper. “ _Move_.”

“ _Hah_ —bossy—” Akira pulls out tortuously, and Goro bites his lip as each inch of rigid flesh slides against his sweet spot, too indirect to be more than teasing but enough to short Goro’s brain into static. “Fuck, you’re so tight—”

Humming, Goro laces his fingers behind Akira’s neck and lets his head fall back, forcing his muscles to relax when Akira pushes back in. Akira strokes his hand over Goro’s forehead, brushing his bangs away from his eyes and fixing Goro with intense, gleaming silver eyes as he bottoms out again.

“Come on, Akira—” Goro presses his thighs into Akira sides, drawing him down enough to graze their noses together. “Don’t hold back. You never hold back for me.”

Akira sucks in a sharp breath and rewards him with another thrust, a little faster, firm enough to jolt up Goro’s spine. “It’s not for you—” Akira tightens his grip on Goro’s hip and hitches him up, angling him better for the next solid rock, and Goro shivers. “I wanna remember this. I want us both to remember this.”

Goro doesn’t say _death can’t take this from me_ because it’s an absurd, grandiose declaration, but he does crane his neck to place a lingering, close-mouthed kiss on the corner of Akira’s lips, which, if Akira’s low whine is any indication, communicates the same sentiment. And it’s convincing enough to make Akira lean back and seize him by the waist before slamming inside with a strangled growl.

A startled cry loosens from Goro’s throat and his hands thump to the bed, tangling in the comforter for purchase as his body jerks roughly. Akira sets a rapid pace, each thrust forcing Goro wide with a delicious burn that sears all the way into his fingertips, and the noise gravelling out of Akira’s chest flickers between a deep, feline purr and a jagged, canine snarl, shifting with each sharp punch of his hips.

When he angles unerringly upward, jabbing bluntly against Goro’s sweet spot, Goro’s spine bows, whole body tensing with a surge of incandescent pleasure, and as Akira pulls back, he feels slick rush out to coat the thick length, oozing out of his twitching hole.

Akira bites his lip, pausing with just the head holding Goro open, and Goro’s muscles ripple greedily, trying to coax him back inside.

“What?” Goro pants, squirming. “Keep going—”

“Hang on—” Visibly shaking, Akira pulls out completely, but before Goro can complain, the hands bracketing his hips are guiding him to the side. “Roll over.”

Lax from the heat swirling through him, Goro lets Akira manhandle him onto his front, groaning as his neglected erection is trapped between his stomach and the bed, and goes willingly when Akira hitches his hips up. A gentle finger swipes over his entrance and Goro jumps, pushing up on his elbows to look back at Akira, on his knees behind him and staring down at his ass like it’s the holy grail.

“You’re so wet,” he marvels, gathering a leaking trail of slick and rubbing it between his fingertips.

Goro flushes at the lewd sight. “Are you really that shocked that I’m aroused by you?”

Akira’s teeth flash through the shadows as he smiles crookedly at him, stroking over his cock to spread the slick along the length. “Just grateful.”

Flushing hotter, Goro presses his forehead to the duvet. “Idiot,” he mumbles into the fabric.

Warm hands smooth down his sloped back, igniting little sparkles at the base of his skull, and he quivers as Akira’s breath ghosts over his burning ear: “I’m going to knot you.”

Goro moans, rutting back onto the hard shaft pressed between his cheeks. “Can—can you?” Generally, alphas don’t knot unless affected by heat pheromones, but Akira sounds so certain, and, like he said himself, arousal is arousal.

Akira purrs, the frequency humming from his chest into the column of Goro’s spine. “I can feel it—” he shifts, sliding his cock teasingly over Goro’s hole. “Gonna fill you up—so deep, everyone will know you’re mine—” a hard edge catches in his voice, “—everyone will know—and you’ll never forget—whatever happens—” his hot breath stutters in Goro’s ear, “—you’ll always know how much—I—”

Goro’s stomach flips. “Akira—”

“If—if that’s okay—”

“Yes—yes, please—” Goro babbles, pushing up onto his hands, sealing Akira’s chest against his back, “—anything, Akira—please, put it inside—in me—”

With a wounded whine, Akira drops his forehead onto Goro’s shoulder and Goro feels him fumbling to get a hand around his cock, before, finally, that scorching pressure is splitting him open again.

Goro keens, clawing his fingers into the duvet, arms shaking from the pleasure pooling bright in his core. Bottoming out, Akira pants open-mouthed against his shoulder blade. After a beat of blistering stillness, the hot oval of Akira’s mouth resolves into a hard, pointed kiss, pressed to Goro’s flushed skin.

As Akira resumes his pace, rocking in and out of Goro’s clinging body, he peppers a glowing row of kisses across his shoulders, all gentle lips and little flicks of tongue that shoot along Goro’s scattered nerves, combining with the overwhelming pleasure and fullness of Akira’s cock working inside him. Slowly, Akira makes his way up, thrusts growing shallower and more grinding with the shorter angle, and Goro feels teeth graze the knob at the top of his spine.

He jolts, toes curling, and even he can smell how his scent swells at the cautious brush against his glands. Between his legs, his heavy cock throbs, and he clenches around Akira.

Sheathing himself completely, Akira nuzzles more firmly against the nape of Goro’s neck, damp exhales gathering in the trailing strands of Goro’s hair. “If we mate—” he murmurs, “—do you think it’ll hold?”

An embarrassing rush of longing tightens Goro’s throat and for a second, he can’t speak, can’t do anything but tremble around Akira’s cock, heart pounding in his ears. Truthfully, he doesn’t know. None of this is...real, or at least, it’s not real yet, so even if he’s not dead in their reality, would actions undertaken in this world carry over to theirs? Shamefully, he finds that he almost doesn’t care. He _wants_ Akira to bite him, _wants_ to pin Akira down and sink his own teeth into Akira’s neck in turn—a fierce jealousy surges through him, screaming at him to do it, to just take this _one thing_ , whether it holds or not, whether it matters or not—right now, Goro wants Akira so much he can feel it in his bones. Saliva pools in his mouth, teeth aching, and Akira’s pheromones constrict his lungs, sweet and claiming and so, _so_ tempting—

“Not—not like this—” he forces out, and the words hurt to speak, every inch of his biology demanding to know what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. His alpha is _right there_ , smelling like safety and desire and everything he’s ever wanted—but if he’s going to give this to Akira, if he’s going to _share_ this with Akira, it sure as hell won’t be while they’re trapped in some madman’s gilded cage. “Not here.”

It’s almost a promise, but from the way Akira’s breath staggers, Goro knows the words are more binding than some half-imaginary mating bite could ever be.

The attention on his nape shifts into a hard bite to the crook of his neck as Akira drives vigorously into Goro’s body, and Goro mewls helplessly. One of Akira’s hands relinquishes his hip and then claiming fingers are tangling in his hair, pulling his head up to bare more of his throat for Akira’s hot mouth. At this angle, all Akira can do is rock slightly, grinding his cock deep into the clutch of Goro’s ass, but that’s more than enough to have Goro’s vision flashing white, have him pulsing around the satisfying girth.

Mouth hanging open for a torrent of high, breathy noises, Goro pushes back against Akira, riding the undulating waves of pleasure breaking through him. Akira groans and the pinch of teeth on Goro’s neck sharpens suddenly. Goro jerks from the abrupt pain but can’t contain a low whine, every muscle in his body tightening as Akira licks over the burning bite mark.

“Sorry,” Akira murmurs against the wound, circling his hips and washing the discomfort away with a renewed rush of heat. “Sorry—you make me—territorial—”

A rough laugh trips over Goro’s lips. “Worried someone will steal me away?”

“No—” The hand in Goro’s hair tenses and that’s all the warning Goro gets before a hard shove takes his upper body all the way to the bed, face pressed into the duvet. Head spinning, Goro spasms powerlessly as Akira pulls back with a cruel drag against his prostate. “I’m worried that you’ll start _thinking_ again—” Akira growls, snapping forward again and stuffing Goro to the brim. The new angle hits even deeper than before, every nerve in Goro’s body going off like a firework and he can’t contain a muffled whimper. “I can’t follow you into your head—wherever you go that tricks you into thinking you’re not wanted—”

“ _Ah_ —Akira—”

“I want you—” Akira’s voice cracks, rising and falling unevenly with this new, vicious rhythm, “—I want you so much—from the beginning—it’s always been you—Goro—”

A hand plants itself on the bed in front of Goro’s unfocused eyes and he grabs for it, wrapping clumsy, tingling fingers around Akira’s wrist. Using the leverage, Goro pushes back into the next bone-jarring thrust, and a very human cry falls from Akira’s mouth, twisting into a low whine at the end. Propped up on his knees like this, Goro can feel slick dripping down the insides of his thighs with each pump and he sucks in a tattered breath, flooding his head with vanilla and cedar.

“Please—” Akira begs, pace stuttering, “—please, please—don’t forget this, please—when we go back—don’t—”

Goro’s throat closes up, something almost like desperation coiling around his lungs, bleeding up his spine with frantic, scrabbling claws, until all he can do is lurch to the side on the next ragged thrust and sink his teeth into Akira’s wrist, just above the knobby bone. Akira groans in surprise and Goro bears down, tearing past the salt and soap on the surface of Akira’s skin, until his mouth is full of blood, the metallic tang coating his tongue to join the sweet forest of Akira’s pheromones.

“ _Fuck_ —” Akira shoves forward ruthlessly and grinds his hips, brushing the wavering pool of fire spreading inexorably through Goro’s body, and Goro gasps, releasing Akira’s wrist. Blood spills from the corner of his lips, mingling with a thin rope of saliva and seeping into the bedspread beneath Goro’s cheek. He blinks hard, catching sight of the bite mark through his swimming vision, an arc of bloody divots slashed into Akira’s fair skin, and covetous satisfaction flashes through him, hot and cloying.

Akira curses mindlessly, his thrusts growing shorter and sloppier as his grip on Goro’s hip tightens into bruising and Goro struggles against the ricocheting pleasure, forcing himself up on shaking arms. Turning his head, he catches Akira’s panting mouth and plunges his tongue inside the wet, silky cavern. The angle is awkward, but Akira responds eagerly, tangling their tongues together, sharing the coppery taste of blood between them, and then there’s an arm hooked under Goro’s shoulder, pulling him up and dragging him completely onto Akira’s cock.

Goro gasps against Akira’s lips, eyes rolling back at the perfect, consuming friction, and he reaches up blindly, grasping around until he feels his buzzing fingers cup around the back of Akira’s neck.

“Goro—” Akira murmurs, arms tight around Goro’s body, keeping him pinned, keeping him impaled completely on the throbbing rod of Akira’s cock. “Goro—I—you—”

“I know—” Goro chokes. “I know—”

One of Akira’s hands drops, wrapping calloused heat around Goro’s aching erection, and Goro goes rigid, muscles locking up and jaw falling open for a mangled scream. Distantly, he feels Akira bury his nose under his jaw, rocking forward with a hiss as the familiar pressure stretches his rim, and everything combined, the burn of Akira’s knot, the sweet pressure around his cock, the solid heat of Akira behind him, enfolding him, and the potent combination of their scents saturating the air—flings Goro into the blaze licking at the edges of his mind, erasing everything but Akira.

But this time—Goro doesn’t let go. He digs his nails into Akira’s arm, Akira’s neck, and, together, they pitch into the fire.

* * *

Warm breath on the back of his neck and a flickering tickle tracing under his ribs tempt Goro back into wakefulness.

Releasing a deep sigh, he gropes sightlessly for the touch against his abdomen and long fingers catch his, tangling with them as the purring plane of heat behind him presses even closer. The motion shifts the cock still hooked inside of him and Goro groans weakly.

“Sorry,” Akira says softly. “It should be going down soon.”

“And then what?” Goro mumbles.

Akira’s purring stutters, and, after a second, Goro feels a flushed brow rest against the back of his neck. “And then we’ll get some sleep.”

“And in the morning?”

“We’ll meet with the others.”

“Akira.”

The grip on his hand tightens. “And then we’ll face Maruki.”

Hearing the words from Akira’s mouth at last laces a shivery thread of relief up the back of Goro’s throat. “I knew I hadn't misjudged you.”

“I wish you had.”

They lapse into silence and Goro lets it linger, gazing blankly into the shadowy corners of the attic. The pillow beneath his cheek smells like them and Goro breathes deeply, each heartbeat rocking through him, pushing their mingled pheromones through his veins. Cedar and roses and vanilla and peaches. A goddamn garden party under his flushed skin.

Akira matches his breathing, warm air exhaled down Goro’s spine, and errant curls tickle Goro’s neck with each slight movement. Their joined hands lay on the mattress in front of Goro’s stomach and, after a hesitant second, Goro feels the gentle sweep of Akira’s thumb stroking over his naval.

Goro presses his lips together in a thin line. “Disappointed?”

“Hm?”

Unthreading their fingers, Goro takes Akira’s hand and lays it flat against his stomach, covering it with his own.

Akira stirs slightly. “What—?”

“I mean, it was yours too, technically.” Goro frowns at the dark room. Akira’s hand against his skin sears like a brand. “Some people might feel...cheated.”

A beat of silence passes, and Goro can almost hear the gears in Akira’s head turning, before Akira’s brow lifts from his nape, and then he’s curling in closer, plastering his chest to Goro’s back. “You said you weren’t going to keep it.”

“Of course I wasn’t. But what does that have to do with your feelings?”

“If you weren’t going to keep it, then there’s nothing to feel disappointed about, except that the choice was taken from you.”

Goro blinks and fists the fingers of his free hand into the duvet to ground himself against the rushing torrent threatening to carry him away. As always, Akira is a rainstorm, only words away from a flood, and Goro is never prepared for the rush. “How progressive of you,” he manages, head barely above water.

“I’m seventeen, Goro,” Akira whispers thickly. “I can barely handle wanting you as much as I do. Thinking about—kids, a family….” He shifts his legs forward, fitting them even closer into the bend of Goro’s knees. “You’re first. You’re everything. Maruki knows—you’re the only thing that makes me falter.”

From the mire of Goro’s memory, an exchange from back in November rises unbidden, and his lips are moving around the half-recalled words before he can stop them—

“Wanting things...hurts people.”

Somehow, Akira curves tighter around him, slipping his arm under Goro’s head and burying his nose in Goro’s hair, sealing every possible inch of available skin together so firmly Goro can feel Akira’s pulse echoing in his ribcage alongside his own. A discordant canon of heavy, trapped heartbeats.

Goro gives him two irregular measures, but when Akira remains silent, it falls on Goro to drive the conclusion home:

“Wanting me hurts you.”

“No.” The response is instant, final, brushing the back of Goro’s neck. “This could never hurt me.”

Goro wants to call him out, accusations of hypocrisy poised on his tongue, but then Akira’s lips are pressed to his skin, and Goro’s fingers are being reclaimed by a warm, calloused grip, and the flood pours forth again, water filling Goro’s lungs and stealing his voice.

“When we get back,” Akira whispers, “—come find me.”

The deepest corners of the attic are completely lost in darkness, and Goro’s eyes catch in one shadowy void, tracing the edges where the old, creaking wood disappears into nothingness. “How long are you willing to wait?” he manages.

The familiar purr revs back to life in Akira’s chest, rumbling through them both. “As long as it takes.”

Nobody could reasonably expect Akira to wait an indeterminable amount of time, perhaps forever, for someone like Goro. After everything Goro’s done, he should just take the words, along with everything else Akira’s said tonight, said _ever_ , as lip service. A last kindness paid to a dead man.

But there’s a rawness in Akira’s voice, the clinging circle of his arms, the tiny chirps lilting the end of each long, stroking purr—as open and honest as an exposed wire, and Goro can’t summon his usual protective doubt. When he reaches for the distrust that’s kept him alive for so long, his fingers just brush against Akira’s, reaching back from where he’s nestled deep in the hollow of Goro’s chest.

Akira fills him up, puncturing the walls he so painstakingly crafted and scraping against his bones as he burrows and stabs and hooks his nails into the decaying interior of Goro’s body. But for all of the blood and noise and rending of flesh, it’s not violent. It’s not frightening. It’s not a possession. It’s a transplant, tenderly snipping away the rot to make room. And now Akira sits inside of him and offers his hands, pulling Goro close and tucking him into the space he carved in the cage of Goro’s ribs.

Goro doesn’t have to disappear to let Akira in; they both fit safely inside this coffin.

Tearing his gaze away from the shadows, Goro cranes his head around, shifting just enough to let Akira’s lips graze his cheek, and inhales the sweet, familiar forest of Akira’s scent.

The quiet of the attic, the draining of the night, like sand into the bottom of an hourglass, wraps gently around their entwined bodies, each hushed, passing second sliding the coffin lid another inch closed.

Until there’s no light, no shadow, no creaking floor or rickety bed. Just Akira, and Goro, and the places they fit together.

* * *

“—then I said that acting like a brat wouldn’t get my attention and she behaved for the rest of the shoot.” Ann raises her eyebrows in faux innocence and takes a sip from her mug. “Newbies just can’t handle the truth sometimes.”

Akira smiles, screwing the lid on the jar he just finished filling. “I hope your girlfriend doesn’t mind you flirting with the competition.”

“Shiho supports me.” Ann settles her cup back onto its saucer and folds her arms on the bar. From the way she sways, Akira can tell she’s bouncing her leg. “Did Ryuji tell you he asked me to surrogate for him and Yusuke?”

“He didn’t, but I’m not surprised.” Akira reaches for the next jar and pops the lid off. He knows that his friends were thinking about starting a family, and there’s no one they would trust more to help them out than Ann. “What do you think?”

Pursing her lips, she lifts one hand to twirl one long lock of hair around her finger. The late afternoon light angles low through the front windows, throwing glittering highlights into the blonde waves. “I’m not sure. I’m booked up for the next year, so I can’t make any big changes to my looks for at least that long.”

Akira scoops a small pile of beans out of their shipping container and lets them fall into the jar, raising his voice over the cascade of muffled clattering: “I don’t think they want to do anything right away.”

“No,” Ann agrees. “But I’d have to start planning soon if I was gonna do it.”

“Do you want to do it?”

She hums thoughtfully. “Maybe. Shiho and I aren’t interested in kids at the moment, but maybe this could be good practice.” Smiling, she picks her cup up again. “Besides, it’s nice that they asked me. I definitely want to help them out, if I can.”

Shoveling another handful of beans into the jar, Akira nods in understanding. “There’s a lot to consider. I think you should take your time.”

“I definitely will,” she says plainly.

A smile curls Akira’s mouth as he twists the lid on the full jar and smooths a new label over the rounded glass. Ann would never let anyone make her decisions for her. It’s something they have in common.

A soft clink from the kitchen snares his attention and he sets the jar aside, eyes drawn to the doorway like magnets to metal.

“Oh!” Ann suddenly perks up, looking at her phone screen. “It’s already this late? Damn—” She drains the rest of her coffee in one long gulp and sets the mug down before shoving her phone and sunglasses into her purse. “I always lose track of time around you, Akira,” she chastises him. “You shouldn’t just let me carry on like that.”

Akira shrugs, forcing his focus back to her.

She rolls her eyes, hopping off her chair. “I have to meet Futaba and Sumi at the station—it’s girls night,” she giggles. “You can join, if you want, of course. I don’t think the new lovebirds would mind.”

“Thanks, but I have plans for tonight.”

“Oh, of course.” She smiles slyly and taps her nose with one manicured finger. “I thought I smelled something when I came in. Fine, you’re off the hook this time.” Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she practically skips to the door. “Tell the busboy I said bye!” she calls, swinging the door open.

At Akira’s wave, she slips out, letting the café door thump shut behind her with a melodic jingle.

Ears ringing with the joyful silence Ann always leaves in her wake, Akira stows the empty coffee containers and makes his way back to the kitchen.

“Ann says goodbye,” he speaks over the steady hiss of the sink, slipping his arms instantly around Goro’s waist from behind.

“Hm,” Goro acknowledges, not pausing his scrubbing. He has his hair tied back in a low ponytail, the ends brushing the loop of his apron, partially obscuring his nape.

“She’s thinking about surrogating for Ryuji and Yusuke.” Akira presses closer, glueing his chest to Goro’s back and nuzzling into his hair. “But she’s not sure how that would work with her schedule.”

“I know.” Goro holds the plate in his hands under the stream, rinsing the soap off. “We were texting about it yesterday.”

“Not fair.” Akira hooks his chin over Goro’s shoulder, watching absently as he slots the plate into the drying rack and switches the sink off. “Why’d she tell you first?”

“Maybe she thought I’d relate more.”

“Do you?”

“In an abstract way, I suppose.” Goro extends one arm for a towel but Akira doesn’t loosen his grip around his waist, keeping Goro pinned against him and unable to reach. “Akira.”

Akira hums, nosing under Goro’s ear. “You smell good.”

“Heavens, I wonder why,” Goro drawls. He turns his head slightly. “Akira, my hands are wet.”

“They’re not the _only_ thing that’s—”

A dripping hand wedges between Akira’s face and Goro’s neck, pushing him back before he can finish, and Akira lets out a laugh.

“Sorry, sorry!”

“The café is still open,” Goro reminds him, cheeks undeniably pink as he finally succeeds in grabbing the towel over the sink and blotting his hands.

“I’ll close it.” Akira reels Goro back in with one arm, lifting the other to sweep Goro’s ponytail away from his nape. “I’ve been waiting all day,” he murmurs, lips brushing the round, healed scar stamped over the top of Goro’s spinal column.

Despite his griping, Goro shivers against him, and Akira inhales deeply, filling his lungs with his mate’s nectarous scent, roses blooming in his head, peaches dripping down the back of his throat. “Well, you still have to rein it in until we get back to the apartment.” Draping the towel over the edge of the sink, he rests his hands in Akira’s arm. “Unless you want a repeat of the shadow incident.”

At the mention, something in Akira’s chest sparks, igniting a deep, rattling purr. It buzzes through his bones, and he feels Goro sink heavier into his embrace, surrendering his weight to the familiar, blissful note. “I wouldn’t mind that,” Akira rumbles.

“I think your boss would mind being locked out of his café all weekend,” Goro scolds.

Goro doesn’t actually work at Leblanc, but with his heat on the doorstep, neither he nor Akira want to be separated from each other. And Goro’s not the type to just sit quietly in a booth during Akira’s shift. As distracting as Goro’s blossoming scent has been all day, Akira knows he’d be near useless with his mate out of sight.

“I guess you’re right, as always,” Akira concedes. He winds his other arm around Goro’s waist as well. “You took off work, right?”

“Of course.” As a legal advocate for an omega rights group based in Tokyo, Goro is in high demand, and his work brings him up against some of the most powerful alphas in the city, so even though his pheromones are dampened to everyone but Akira, he makes sure to give himself generous time on either side of his heat. “As soon as you clock out, I’m all yours.”

Akira groans, ducking to bury his face in Goro’s shoulder. “I can’t wait that long.”

“Suck it up.”

“No, I really—” Almost against his will, Akira’s hands drop to Goro’s hips, fitting over the sharp bones he can feel through Goro’s clothes as another breath infuses his lungs with their mingled scents, dripping into the dark heat pooling in his gut, “—feel like I’m going crazy. Been smelling you all day—even Ann said she could—” he mouths under Goro’s ear, letting his purring swell louder, until it’s resonating through both of them. “Need you—”

“Wait—” Batting Akira’s hands away, Goro turns in his arms, and Akira drifts back enough to catch his mate’s shrewd whiskey eyes. “Ann said she could smell me?”

Akira nods. “She said she’d been smelling something since she got here.”

Goro pinches his brows together, and Akira has to fight off the urge to lean up and kiss the little resulting wrinkle. “I was upstairs when she got here. How would she be able to smell me?”

“Because you’re spraying pheromones everywhere.” Akira plasters his hands to Goro’s back, pulling him in.

“Yes, but you’re still the only one who should be able to….” Goro trails off, nostrils flaring, then a hand in Akira’s hair is yanking his head to the side. He just purrs louder at the rough treatment, feeling up and down Goro’s spine as Goro sticks his face in the crook of his neck and inhales deeply. The slight brush of Goro’s lips against his bare skin snaps like an electrical charge and a shiver races up Akira’s spine into his spinning head.

“Akira—” Goro’s voice permeates the warm haze settling over Akira’s thoughts and he blinks his eyes open—when did he close them?—to see his mate peering intently at him, searching his gaze. “Can you hear me?”

“Hm.” Akira tries to lean forward to kiss away Goro’s terse frown, but hands on either side of his face catch him. “Wha—?”

“Akira, focus.” Goro narrows his eyes, and in the uneven light of the kitchen, the red undertones of his irises are as soft as they get, warm caramel sliding over Akira’s face. “Do you feel okay?”

“Okay?” Akira repeats, puzzled. Goro’s concerned stare pours a stream of awareness into Akira’s foggy brain, and he grasps clumsily for it, struggling to take stock of himself. “I—” He catalogues the unusual heat gathering in his core, the taste of their blended scents cloying on his tongue, the flickering of his thoughts, and he frowns bemusedly. “I feel...weird. Detached.”

Goro twists his mouth to the side. “I don’t think Ann was smelling me—I think she was picking up on you. You’re putting off a _lot_ of pheromones.”

That would make sense. Mated pairs can take on hints of their partner’s scents, so Ann might have caught something and thought it was Goro. Akira registers this distantly, quickly losing focus in favor of staring at Goro’s mouth. “Mm.”

“This is strange,” Goro is mumbling, thumbs stroking over Akira’s cheekbones, and the fluttery touch reverberates into the rumble in Akira’s chest. “Your scent shouldn’t be this potent. I haven’t smelled it like this since—” he breaks off, and the way his eyes widen pierces straight through the fog in Akira’s head.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asks quickly, tightening his hold around Goro’s waist.

Goro shakes his head, dropping his hands to Akira’s shoulders. “Akira, I think you’re in rut.”

The words punch through the hungry film stretching over Akira’s awareness and he goes rigid. “What?”

“It’s been a few years, but—” Goro rocks forward, nosing at Akira’s neck again, and his voice dips dangerously, “—I remember this—”

Goosebumps lift along Akira’s skin at the sensation of a hot mouth fastening right over his jugular, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, and moan loosens from his throat.

Goro answers with a low humming noise of his own, and his scent crescendos pointedly. Flooded with pheromones and little skittery jolts of pleasure from the tongue licking up his neck, Akira struggles to ground himself, honing in on Goro’s revelation.

“So—” he swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth, skating his hands up and down Goro’s back, “—so, if I’m in rut, that...that means—this is a breeding heat?”

The mouth on his skin pauses, then Goro lets out a frustrated hiss. “Goddamn defective suppressants—my increased dosage was supposed to keep this from happening.” He removes his face from Akira’s neck and leans back enough to meet Akira’s gaze with an accusatory frown, cheeks rosy and eyes bright. “Are you some sort of super alpha or something?”

“You think _I_ did this?”

“You’ve been spraying happy pheromones for the past week just because my heat was coming up—” Goro blows out a sigh. “It’s—there’s a cascade effect—my pheromones affect yours, affect mine, and so on and so on, and now I’m in a breeding heat and you’re in rut.”

Despite his mate’s displeased tone, something giddy bubbles in Akira’s chest thinking that their bodies are so attuned to each other that they made Goro’s suppressants fail. Distantly, he figures it’s just his animalistic alpha hindbrain wagging its tail, pleased that his omega is ready to take his knot, but that understanding doesn’t temper the possessive pleasure seeping through him. “Sorry,” he purrs, leaning forward to brush their noses together. “I’ll make sure to take care of you.”

“I seem to remember doing most of the _caring_ last time you were in rut.”

“I’m an adult now. I can control myself.” Indeed, the rut haze permeating his head doesn’t feel _nearly_ as debilitating as it did when it was induced by that shadow. His instincts are still scratching at the door, eager to whisk his omega back to their den and fuck him sideways, but after several years of dealing with Goro’s heats, he’s equipped to manage this extra tangle.

“Mm. I might have to ask Ann to pick up some morning after pills. I don’t think either of us can negotiate a store right now. The train is already going to be bad enough.”

“Will that be necessary?” Akira trails one hand up to drag the backs of his fingers over Goro’s upper arm, right over the place his birth control implant sits under the skin.

Goro quirks a half-smile and lets his hand drop to mirror Akira’s, pressing his hand over Akira’s own injection site. “These are for regular sex. If my suppressants fucked up, I’m going to need something a little stronger.”

“Aw,” Akira coos, replacing his arm around Goro’s waist. “Not interested in letting me put a baby in you?”

Scowling,Goro pinches him hard on the bicep, and Akira laughs despite the twinge.

“Just kidding.” Revving his purr a little louder, Akira draws Goro against him, pressing their temples together and rocking his weight gently from side to side. “I’ll call Sojiro and tell him I have to clock out early. He won’t mind.”

“Insatiable.”

“You did this to me.”

Goro’s hand slides up, over Akira’s shoulder, to cup the back of Akira’s neck, warm skin pressed over the slightly raised bite scar encircling his nape. “That’s true,” he murmurs into Akira’s ear.

Jubilant heat flushes through Akira’s body, tingling all the way to his fingertips. The firm contact against his mating mark sings into his awakening rut, drumming a series of helpless little chirps out of his mouth.

Goro snickers, stroking over the scar intentionally.

“If you keep doing that, we won’t make it home,” Akira warns, breathless from the involuntary noises.

Stilling his fingers, Goro shifts back enough to place a chaste kiss on Akira’s cheek. “Alright. I’ll take responsibility.” Tilting his head, he levels Akira with a molten look. “Let’s go home, Akira.”

When Akira sways forward to catch Goro’s mouth with his own, they fit together perfectly.

**Author's Note:**

> and there it is! some notes, if you'll oblige me:
> 
> -i know a bunch of you were probably looking forward to a more baby-centric conclusion, and as sweet as i think that would be, i had to be honest with myself about what my interpretations of the characters would want.  
> -honestly, i never expected my first 2/2 fic to be under these circumstances but i'm not complaining lol. i love the cafe scene in the game very much for what it represents and i wanted to be true to those underlying themes, even though the situation is a little fantastical.  
> -i didn't go into too much detail about their lives post-game bc i would just never shut up, but i imagine it's been several years by the time of the flashforward, long enough that they're both out of college, and Akira is training to take over Leblanc like in the After Hours series bc i'm so weak for that.  
> -something i wasn't able to work in is that one part of Shido's platform is encouraging alpha/omega family units, so when Goro's mother, a beta, got pregnant, he left her so it wouldn't detract from his traditionalist image.
> 
> thank you all so SO much for your support for this story! i loved writing it and i genuinely hope you loved reading it. come see me on [tumblr](https://mistresseast.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/MistressEast)! I have a cc linked in my twitter bio and i'm always down to chat about shuake <3


End file.
